


In Character

by snakeling



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Bondage, D/s, Multi, Plot What Plot, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-08
Updated: 2008-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeling/pseuds/snakeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto plays many roles; some are more fun than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Character

**Author's Note:**

  * For [_sulla](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=_sulla).



Ianto liked it when everyone was out of the Hub at the same time, be it for alien-hunting or pub-drinking. It gave him time and privacy to tend to Lisa.

Like now.

She was breathing shallowly, obviously in pain, but it was a little too soon for another morphine dose. She was smiling, though, looking as beautiful as ever.

“I’ve made contact with Dr Tanizaki. He’s specialised in cybernetics. I’m trying to persuade him to come to Cardiff. Might not be long, now.”

He curled his fingers with Lisa’s.

“I can’t wait. What about the others? They don’t suspect?”

Ianto shrugged. “No. They’re too wrapped in their own lives to notice me.” Except for the Captain, who’d definitely noticed him. But he seriously underestimated Ianto and thought him totally loyal.

Which Ianto would have been if he could. But Lisa came first, and everything else took a step back to her well-being.

Ianto made a note of the results on the monitors, adding them to the chart he kept scrupulously up-to-date. Lisa was already snoozing a little; Ianto decided to let her fall asleep on her own, setting the next shot of morphine to be delivered automatically.

He kissed her one last time on the corner of her mouth, then left, walking back with something like despair in his steps. He wanted Lisa to be better _now_, but nothing was happening yet.

Though Ianto had no idea what they’d do then. Work for Torchwood? Jack wasn’t going to be best pleased with him — at all kinds of levels — and neither London nor Glasgow had any need for them. Retcon them? He was immune, and he wasn’t going to stand aside and watch as they took Lisa’s memories of him from her.

He sighed. One thing at a time. He’d climb that mountain when he needed to.

He arrived in the main area just in time to hear the others on the coms, announcing their intention to come back. Apparently, the dangerous alien weapon had turned out to be an alien teddy-bear. Ianto snickered at that.

He prepared the coffee machine, tracking the SUV’s movements and starting the dripping process at what he knew to be precisely the right time.

When the team entered, Ianto was by the door, ready to hand over the mugs. The Captain tossed him the teddy-bear: it was multiple-tentacled, made of some sort of soft material and extremely heavy in relation to its size.

“From a planet with lower gravity?”

The Captain beamed at him. “Yes. Kêrêphonê, if I’m not mistaken. There should be some information about them in the archives.”

Ianto remembered seeing it, and of course it was in the section that hadn’t been computerised yet. Now he knew what he would do with his afternoon.

* * *

Ianto buried himself in the archiving, setting an alarm to remember to pause for mid-afternoon coffee. A mild inconvenience, but the others had got used to coffee appearing on their desks just when tiredness started to catch with them, and bitched when they didn’t get it.

Nothing happened in the afternoon, and they all took advantage of the quiet to leave early, Tosh the last one out at half past six — and the only one bothering with a “See you tomorrow!” when she left through the Tourism Office.

He looked up and smiled. “Good night, Tosh!” His smile was genuine; of all his co-workers, Tosh was the only one who’d made an effort to try and befriend him.

A couple of hours later, he wrapped up what he was doing, surprised at how late it’d got. Good thing he loved his job. Ianto took the box that contained the alien teddy-bear and the print-out of his analyses and brought it down to the archives to file it.

Once he was done, he set on his evening routine. First stop: the coffee machine. The Captain was addicted to caffeine enough to require a cup in the evening, though he did weaken this one with milk.

Second stop: his office. The Captain was still working, though obviously on tedious paperwork he’d rather ignore — or inflict on Ianto, who didn’t complain; it made buying supplies for Lisa so much easier when he was the one filling the forms.

The Captain looked up at Ianto’s entrance, a large smile on his face.

“My saviour!”

“You’d say that to anyone who showed up with coffee.”

He handed the mug to the Captain, their fingers meeting and brushing in what Ianto was reluctant to call an _accidental_ way. He knew what that meant; it’d been almost a week, after all.

“Nonsense. Nobody makes coffee quite the way you do, Ianto.”

Ianto smiled and turned to leave. He knew what Jack wanted, but he had no intention of pre-empting his needs. The perfect butler comparison extended only so far. Besides, it hadn’t taken him long to realise that it paid to have Jack articulate exactly what he wanted, not least because it was often the first stage of foreplay, for them.

“Ianto?”

Ianto paused, his hand on the door handle, and turned to face Jack, who was warming his hands on the coffee mug. He was reclining in his chair, looking at Ianto with what he could only describe as a speculative stare. Ianto was used to it, now, and simply raised an eyebrow.

“Sir?”

“How adventurous would you say you are?”

Ianto faced Jack fully, leaning against the door.

“Adventurous? We’re _not_ talking about going Weevil-hunting in the dark, are we?”

Jack smiled slowly while shaking his head, his eyes never leaving Ianto. He had on the kind of smug smile that Ianto wanted to wipe off his face.

Though of course, in the few months since he’d started at Torchwood Three, Ianto had given Jack reasons for that smile. And, if Ianto was honest with himself — and he made a point of lying to himself as little as possible — Ianto enjoyed his . . . sessions with the Captain.

They had started from Ianto’s sheer desperation to throw Jack off Lisa’s scent, but Jack had soon opened a new world to Ianto. Sex with Lisa had been great; sex with Jack was _fun_. And of course, that only made him feel guiltier.

Well. He’d made his bed.

He realised that Jack was still waiting for an answer.

“I haven’t said no to you yet, have I? Let’s hear it.”

Jack’s smile bloomed. “I was thinking, a little roleplaying.”

“Roleplaying?”

“Hmm. And given the positive way you responded last week —” He leered at Ianto, who couldn’t help blushing. “— something that would require you to be tied up.”

Ianto hadn’t expected to like being restrained so much; he thought Jack had been rather surprised, too. Ianto had come completely unhinged, his arousal magnified tenfold by his frustration until he was putty in Jack’s hands. He’d never felt so mellow and relaxed afterwards, either.

“I’m listening,” Ianto said non-committally.

“I’ve got a couple of scenarios. But first . . .” He turned to face Ianto fully, his face as serious as Ianto had ever seen it. “Do you trust me to stop when you tell me to, to be attentive to your needs?”

Jack had asked the same question the week before, after he’d sat Ianto and painstakingly explained the concept of safewords and limits. The discussion had made him feel quite young and naive, and had driven home the realisation that trust was paramount in Jack’s eyes.

He nodded, then realised that Jack expected him to verbalise. “Yes,” he said.

Jack grinned. There was no hint of smugness or victory now, just so much boyish glee that Ianto couldn’t help returning the smile.

“You were saying something about scenarios?”

“Right.” Jack sat up and took a long sip of his coffee. “You could be a new slave I just bought, and of course I’d have to make sure you answer my expectations perfectly.”

Jack’s half-lidded gaze contained worlds of promises, and Ianto blinked. The scenario hit a little too close to home, given his confused feelings about Torchwood Cardiff in general and Jack in particular. Yet it might be interesting to play around with it.

“Slave and slave owner, right. And your other scenario?”

“Oh, a classic. You’re my prisoner, and I need to make sure you’re not hiding anything.”

Ianto grimaced. His very first encounter with an alien had led to seventy hours’ non-stop interrogation by Torchwood One, including a couple of drug serums and some more physical persuasion. He hadn’t been particularly keen to join after that, but with his immunity to Retcon, it was either that or a bullet to the head.

Mildly, he said, “Do you know how I was recruited?”

Ianto almost could see the cogs turning in Jack’s head, and the moment everything clicked in place. Jack winced. “Right. Sorry?”

Ianto waved the apology aside; it hadn’t been intentionally hurtful, after all. “Let’s explore the slave idea, then.”

“Let me get a few props.” Jack drained his cup of coffee, opened the trap to his rooms and jumped down, not bothering with the ladder.

“. . . Props?”

There were rummaging sounds coming from below, but obviously Jack had heard him, because he answered, the sound muffled, “Props are essential. You don’t need a lot, just enough to get the imagination going. Hmm.” His head emerged from the manhole. “I don’t suppose you have a loincloth?”

“. . . A loincloth?”

“No, didn’t think so.”

He climbed up completely and carefully closed the trap again, holding something Ianto couldn’t see.

“Slaves are generally sold naked or as near as. A loincloth would have done nicely, but we can make do with your underwear.”

Ianto shook his head, amused, and started to strip down.

“Should I go for ‘meekly submissive’ or ‘rebellious and won’t go down without a fight’?”

Jack smiled warmly. “Oh, rebellious is more fun, isn’t it? Nothing like a little struggle.” He paused, then seemed to realise what he’d said. “Only pretend struggle, of course.”

Ianto laughed at Jack’s quagmire, not unkindly. “Yes, I realised the first time that you liked your bed partners willing. Even enthusiastic.”

Jack looked relieved. “Definitely enthusiastic.”

Ianto folded his suit and shirt on a corner of Jack’s desk, set his rolled tie over his clothes and his shoes and socks under the desk, then stood unabashed while Jack admired him. He’d become a lot less body-shy under Jack’s tutelage.

After a few seconds, Jack said, “Give me your arms.”

Puzzled, Ianto held both arms in front of him. Jack slipped cuffs around his wrists, carefully buckling them so they weren’t too tight. Ianto examined one while Jack finished adjusting the other: it was black leather, lined in something soft, with a sturdy ring on the side. Obviously a high-end product.

“I’m a very valued slave,” Ianto remarked.

Jack grinned, a bit wolfish. “Not yet. But you have the potential to be.”

Ianto shivered at his tone, from anticipation. Jack brought his hands together in his back and locked the cuffs together. Ianto tested them, pulling hard, but they held.

“Are you warm enough?”

“I’m all right for now, but I’m not sure that will last.”

Jack nodded and cranked up the heat. He turned back to Ianto. “Ready?”

Ianto nodded.

“Let’s start, then. Go down to your knees.”

Ianto obeyed, but in keeping with his script, his posture was anything but submissive: his back was ramrod straight, his chin high, his gaze fixed somewhere to the left of Jack’s shoulder.

“Well. So you are my new slave. You’re in luck, slave. I fancy myself a good and fair master: obey and you’ll be rewarded; resist and you’ll be punished.”

He turned around Ianto as he made his speech. Ianto remained stubbornly still.

“I have slaves working on my estate, mostly in the fields, but also as my agents to the buyers.” He stopped turning and planted himself in front of Ianto. “Am I boring you, slave?” His tone was incredulous and Ianto swallowed a snicker, managing to maintain his impassive face.

Fingers clicked in front of his eyes. Ianto looked up from them along the arm to the face that was looming above him. J— no, no, his new “owner” — and even in his mind Ianto managed to infect the word with venom — was looking faintly annoyed.

“I’m sorry, were you speaking to me?” Ianto asked in his most cultured voice.

His owner’s eyebrows climbed up. With a sweeping motion of the hand, he showed the office. “Do you see anyone else, slave?”

Ianto locked his jaw and raised his chin just a fraction higher.

“I have a name —”

His owner moved so quickly that Ianto had no time to react. He took Ianto’s chin in a firm grip, though not so firm that it would leave bruises.

“You _had_ a name. But now you’re mine, and I’ll call you what I damn well please. And right now, ‘slave’ is all you deserve. Be a good slave, and I’ll give you a new name. Be an excellent slave, and I’ll even let you have the old one.”

Ianto sent his most murderous glare at him, but it only made him chuckle. He released Ianto’s chin and stepped back.

“As I was saying, I have dozens of slaves working for me in all sorts of capacity, but what I’m really lacking is a pleasure slave.”

Ianto twitched violently at that and looked up, incredulous. His owner was smiling predatorily, eyeing him up and down, and Ianto had the urge to hunch down to hide as much of himself as he could. Not that it would do much good.

“Oh yes. Lily-white skin, a beautiful body, a tight ass and a mouth made for sucking cock. Yes, you’ll do nicely, slave.”

Ianto was speechless for a second, then said hotly, “I’m no one’s whore.”

His owner gripped Ianto’s chin again and pushed him backwards until Ianto had to balance himself with his bound hands. He was on the brink of falling, his owner straddling his body and controlling it. He’d never felt so vulnerable; he’d never felt so good — and that scared him.

“I am Mr Harkness, or Sir, or Master. And you’re going to talk to me _politely_.”

Ianto gritted his teeth. “I’m no one’s whore, Mr _Harkness_.” Ianto managed to make the name sound like something he’d scraped off his shoe.

Harkness only chuckled. His free hand went up and grabbed Ianto’s hair. His other hand left Ianto’s chin to stray to his mouth, his thumb stroking Ianto’s lips, coaxing them to open.

“You’re going to be mine. And you know what?” Harkness closed the distance between their two faces and whispered in confidence, “You’re going to love it.”

Before Ianto had time to protest, he found himself soundly kissed. That kiss made no pretence at tenderness or any emotion. It was a punishment, designed to show Ianto who the boss was. It was a violation, full of teeth and tongue, but one Ianto could only resist for so long.

Under Harkness’s unrelenting assault, Ianto finally opened his mouth, letting him in, letting him explore and claim Ianto thoroughly.

When he stepped back, Ianto was panting heavily and quite aware of the erection distorting his underwear. A normal physical reaction to the situation, and one he had every intention to ignore.

Harkness still had a hard grip on his hair and used it to push his head backward until he could look at Ianto in the face.

“As my new pleasure slave, your duties will be very simple: keep me well-fucked. I’m a man, with the needs of a man. All right, they may be a little more frequent and intense than other men’s. You will have to meet those needs, and even, when we know each other better, anticipate them.”

Needs indeed. Couldn’t he use his right hand, like everyone else?

Harkness started to undo his fly. “Let’s start with something easy.” He took his cock out, hard and red, glistening in the dim light of the office. He smelled heavily of musk and male arousal, in a way that made Ianto’s mouth water, though he forbade himself to let it show.

He smirked up at Harkness. “You’re letting my teeth near your cock?”

Ianto had the satisfaction to see Harkness pause at that.

“Bite me and I’ll castrate you.”

He sounded quite serious, but bravado was a lifestyle for Ianto. “Would be worth the trade-off.”

He was rather surprised to hear Harkness laugh, a joyful sound that seemed devoid of triumph or mockery.

“You’re quite the feisty one, aren’t you?” His cock was tracing shapes on Ianto’s face, leaving sticky trails on his cheeks and chin.

“You’ve seen nothing, yet. _Sir_.”

Harkness laughed again and pushed his cock against the lips Ianto kept obstinately closed. Ianto turned his head away as much as he could, which wasn’t much.

“If — I said if — I do what you want, what can I look forward to?”

“Lots of orgasms; I don’t believe in leaving my partners unsatisfied. Regular meals and a comfortable bed to sleep in; you don’t seem to have had too many of those before. I don’t beat my slaves, though I suppose I could beat you if it’s your thing.”

Ianto made a grimace of distaste.

“No? Just as well, I really dislike inflicting pain. You seem intelligent; I could also teach you to read and write, if you want.”

That caught Ianto’s attention — even as he wondered vaguely _when_ Jack had set their little scenario.

“You would?”

“So that’s what you want?” Harkness chuckled. “I’m a busy man, but I can certainly spare a few hours here and there to teach you.”

“You swear?” Ianto was quite aware that as his owner, Harkness had no legal obligation to him, but he hoped he was a decent man enough not to renege on a promise.

“You have my word. Now, why don’t — oh yes!”

The last words were almost shouted as Ianto opened his mouth and took in as much of Harkness’s cock as he could. The position was awkward, and Harkness was certainly the biggest man he’d ever seen, but Ianto gave it his best effort.

Angled as he was, Ianto could only mostly suckle on the head of Harkness’s cock without getting a crick in his neck, but he did it with gusto. Harkness tasted the way he preferred, like a man who’d washed several hours ago: clean, but not enough to taste of soap.

Both of Harkness’s hands went to wrap the back of his head, pushing ever so slightly. Ianto took the hint; his mouth started moving up Harkness’s cock, slow and steady, to give Ianto time to relax his throat and minimise his gag reflex. Thankfully, Harkness didn’t rush him; Ianto didn’t have a lot of experience and he’d really rather not humiliate himself.

Ianto had made good progress, using all the tricks he’d learned in his admittedly short career, but it wasn’t enough. Harkness’s cock stopped being a comfortable weight on his tongue and started being a too large foreign object almost lodged down his throat, choking him.

Violently, he threw his head back to free his mouth, overbalancing himself. Only Harkness’s hands prevented him from falling, especially when he started coughing. Harkness helped him straighten and crouched down beside him, rubbing his back in small circles.

“Are you all right?”

Harkness — no, Jack — was very solicitous and clearly worried. Between fits of coughing, Ianto managed to reassure him.

“Yes, yes. Just a little physical mishap.”

Jack looked sceptical.

“Green,” Ianto said forcefully. “Really. I just. . . bit off more than I could chew, that’s all.” Jack winced and Ianto replayed his words. “Er. Figuratively, of course.”

The coughing had calmed and Jack walked to his desk, reaching inside a drawer for the glass and bottle of water he always kept there. He poured a glass and walked back to Ianto, who couldn’t help staring at the way his still hard cock jutted out of his fly. It should have looked ridiculous, and yet managed to be hot.

Harkness held the glass at Ianto’s lips, who obeyed the tacit order, dipping his head back and drinking. The fresh water did wonders on his parched throat.

“Thank you, sir.”

For the first time, Ianto infused the word with respect and not disdain. It earned him a hair ruffling and a caress down his spine that left him shivering.

“Just as well we stopped. I had other plans, before we got sidetracked.”

Harkness stood up and started to unbutton his shirt. Ianto’s eyes tracked every movement of his hands as they pushed the tiny buttons through the holes. When he was done, Harkness took off both the shirt and the tee he wore underneath in one move, letting them fall in an entangled heap on the floor.

Harkness bent down to unlace his shoes and Ianto suddenly regretted he could not admire the view from the other side, because it was probably spectacular.

Quickly Harkness took off his shoes and pushed down his trousers, stepping out of them in the same movement. Ianto made a small sound in the back of his throat that Harkness caught, as his eyes were suddenly full of laughter.

“Get on the sofa behind you, on your hands and knees.”

Awkwardly, because of his still bound hands, Ianto stood up — no way he was going to crawl; there were limits to his submission. He climbed on the sofa, then paused.

“Sir? _Hands_ and knees?”

“Right. Anyway, you need to get rid of this; it’ll only get in the way.”

This turned out to be his underwear, which Harkness tugged down his legs. Ianto refused to blush at how hard his cock was, or at the way Harkness looked at it. Without touching, to Ianto’s disappointment.

Harkness then helped him until he was kneeling, his head on the arm of the sofa and his arse embarrassingly high in the air. It was probably the most humiliating position Ianto had ever held, and it didn’t help matters when Harkness stepped back to forage in his desk once more.

He came back with a small bottle Ianto recognised as lube. Ianto’s breath caught in his throat, and he couldn’t deny that it was wholly from anticipation.

Harkness wedged the bottle between the cushions and settled comfortably between Ianto’s spread legs. He was in the perfect position to kiss Ianto’s arse, so he did, kissing and nibbling on the flesh as if it were a special treat. Ianto had never quite realised that his arse had so many nerve endings, and he was soon having to bite his lips to keep from vocalising his approval of Harkness’s treatment.

Suddenly, Harkness’s tongue took a path Ianto hadn’t been expecting. He wouldn’t — of course he wouldn’t — it was completely unsanitary, no one in their right mind would — Ianto’s brain short-circuited when Harkness licked a stripe down the middle of his arse, directly on his hole.

He had probably shouted something obscene, too, because Harkness chuckled, sending little puffs of air on his wet skin, making Ianto squirm, though not actually try to get away.

Harkness set to reduce Ianto’s brain to mush with renewed enthusiasm, using first his tongue then his fingers to relax Ianto. In the position he was in, there wasn’t much Ianto could do, except push his arse in Harkness’s face in a clear demand for more. Ianto had long renounced to keep quiet, and an uninterrupted stream of nonsense babbling was falling from his lips. Ianto was sure he’d be embarrassed by what he was saying if he could bring himself to care.

All too soon, Harkness stopped, straightened, his hands falling away from Ianto’s body. Ianto tried to protest, but his mouth felt strangely disconnected from his brain, and he could only manage a keening sound low in his throat.

Jack stroked his back comfortingly while making soothing noises. “Shh, shh. I’m not going away. I just needed supplies. I’m here. Feel that?”

He pressed against Ianto’s arse, blunter and wider than any fingers could be, and Ianto felt his body giving way, welcoming him with none of the resistance he hadn’t been able to stop himself from opposing before. Ianto tried to push back, but there was no rushing Jack — Harkness — Jack as he held Ianto’s hips steady.

He didn’t quicken his pace later either, seemingly content to fuck Ianto in long slow thrusts while Ianto was turning into a mindless mass of frustrated arousal, his bound hands preventing him from achieving any sort of satisfaction on his own.

Ianto was sweaty, from the heat and the exertion, and drops rolled down his face, one landing in his eyes and burning. He ignored the stinging pain, though, as attending to it would have meant _stopping_ and Ianto was quite sure that neither he nor Jack were capable of it by this point.

When Jack managed to hit his prostate, it ceased to matter anyway. Then Jack snaked a hand around Ianto’s body. His fingers found Ianto’s cock easily and closed around it, not moving.

Jack draped himself over Ianto’s back, trapping his hands with his belly. He gave a quick tug on Ianto’s cock.

“You may come, now. My little slave.”

Jack’s — no, Harkness’s — God, this was confusing — breathing was ragged and Ianto felt immensely cheered on and proud that he wasn’t the only one affected. Harkness’s hand tightened a second time and that was all it took.

Ianto’s whole body seized and his universe shrank to the magnificent cock still moving inside him and the hand on his own cock, both working in counterpoint to wring from Ianto the best orgasm he ever had. His vision greyed out, and he had to force himself to remember how to breathe.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but they seemed to last an eternity before Ianto fell back from his high. Harkness, unless it was Jack, was holding him, caressing him while making comforting noises in his throat.

Ianto turned his head when Jack’s hand threaded through his hair and pressed a kiss on it. It stilled.

“All right?”

Ianto realised that Jack was still hard inside him.

“Yes, but you . . . ?”

“I want you to _really_ feel it.” Ianto could hear the grin in Jack’s voice. He smiled tiredly in return, then yelped when Jack withdrew.

Jack carefully manhandled him onto his back, doing most of the work as Ianto was still both shackled and blissed out. He draped Ianto’s legs on his shoulders in a way that made Ianto grateful for his bendiness, then, without warning, entered him in one powerful thrust.

It was rough, but not really painful, though Ianto knew he was going to feel it afterwards. Not that he really minded. Ianto was nearly bent in half, Jack throwing all his — rather considerable in this position — weight in each thrust.

It didn’t take too long before Jack’s rhythm grew erratic. Ianto kept up a steady stream of encouragement, knowing how much Jack liked the dirty talk, especially coming from _him_ and in _his_ accent. Jack slammed in one last time, then stilled, his fingers clenching over Ianto’s hips, probably leaving ten perfectly oval bruises, as usual.

Ianto rode out Jack’s orgasm, then let his legs slid down Jack’s shoulders. Jack flopped down on Ianto’s chest, his sweaty hair tickling Ianto’s chin and neck. It would have felt pretty good, cuddling like that, if Jack hadn’t been crushing him in a completely awkward position.

“Jack?”

Jack barely stirred, only moving his head a couple of inches, directly breathing on one of Ianto’s nipples, something he would have encouraged in almost any other circumstances.

“Jack, I’m starting to _hurt_.”

That got Jack’s attention, as he’d known it would. “What?” He pushed himself up and looked Ianto over. Ianto rolled a little to the side and wriggled his hands.

“I’m still cuffed.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He unhooked the cuffs and helped Ianto straighten himself, even massaging his stiff shoulders. Ianto stood up and stretched before slumping down next to Jack. He looked at his wrists, still encased in the heavy cuffs.

“Do you want me to take them off for you?”

“No!” Ianto answered quickly. “I kinda like how they look.”

Jack chuckled but thankfully didn’t comment further. They remained side by side for a couple of minutes, both enjoying the afterglow and the easy silence between them. Ianto regretted they weren’t touching any more. Of all he’d done with Lisa, what he missed most was the hours they could spend in each other’s arms. Not having sex, not kissing. Just touching for the sake of touching. He didn’t have that with Jack, which was understandable even as it was disappointing.

Jack chuckled again, and Ianto made an inquisitive noise.

“So, you want to learn how to read?”

Ianto laughed. “I had played us more or less into a corner, and it seemed like a plausible motive for giving in.”

“Yeah. You’re good at improvising.”

“Youth Theatre when I was in school.”

Jack laughed again. Ianto had already noticed that sex would put Jack in a very good mood where he was prone to random bouts of laughing or grinning. It was contagious, too, and one of the reasons Ianto couldn’t get mad at the man for giving him such awesome sex despite his conflicted feelings.

“I still need to do my tour of the Hub.” Ianto made no move to get out of the sofa. “I really should have a shower first, though. Can I borrow yours?”

“Can I watch?”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Watch, yes. Do _not_ join in, because I actually want to go home at some point.”

Jack laughed. Ianto finally found the will to get up and off his comfortable seat on the sofa. Without bothering with his clothes, he went down the manhole into Jack’s private quarters. It wasn’t his first time here, and he went directly to the tiny bathroom, only pausing by the cupboard to get a clean towel.

He stepped under the hot spray, letting it wash the exertion of the evening. Too bad it couldn’t wash his sins as well. At this point Ianto didn’t know who he regretted most betraying.

Jack was there when he got out of the shower, lazily stroking a cock that, incredibly, seemed on the way to recovery. Ianto shook his head.

“You’re dealing with that on your own.”

Jack leered at him. “Can’t I tempt you?”

“Nope.” He towelled his hair as dry as possible, then dropped the damp towel into the laundry bag, before sauntering to the ladder and quite deliberately giving Jack a show climbing it up.

He dressed up quickly before setting off on his tour. Myfanwy was already screeching and playing with the hot air currents in the Hub, so he went ahead and opened the trap of the invisible lift. She screeched again and got out in a tight spiral that had the advantage of keeping her within the perception filter’s limits until she was high enough not to knock over any unsuspecting passer-by. He closed the trap again, not wanting anyone to fall in. Jack had assured him no one could, but he still worried.

Next he checked his colleagues’ workstations, collecting the empty mugs and various detritus that seemed to accumulate even when they weren’t there. At least it was light work now. When he’d first joined in, the Hub had been a pigsty. No work for him, his arse.

He set the mugs in the sink and filled them with water. He’d wash them in the morning, but that way nothing would dry up and stick. He took one portion of Weevil mix from the cupboard and went down to the cells.

Down there, the Weevil seemed calm, though it perked up at the smell of food. Warily, Ianto opened the door and set the dish inside. He never looked away from the Weevil and his hand was never far from his can of spray, but it behaved itself.

Now was the hard part: instead of going back up, Ianto opened one of the doors leading deeper into the tunnels. As soon as he was out of range of the CCTV, he broke out in a silent run, stopping at the door to compose himself.

He didn’t bother with the light, knowing the layout of the room to the millimetre. He ghosted a touch on Lisa’s face, knowing she was under morphine but not caring.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Remember that. Don’t hate me for what I have to do.”

Ianto kissed her unresponsive lips, then backed away quickly, again running down the corridor, wasting as little time as possible.

Jack was waiting for him, leaning against the door of a cell, and Ianto barely caught a scream when he saw him.

“Problem?” Jack had his Webley out.

“I thought I’d heard a noise, but it was just a rat. I’ll buy some poison tomorrow.”

“All right. You going home?”

Ianto closed and locked the door before starting back up to the Hub’s main area. Jack followed him, thankfully showing no further interest.

“Yeah. I’ll lock the Tourist Office on my way out.”

Jack nodded, then walked peaceably along, his shoulder sometimes bumping into Ianto’s. At the cog door, he stopped and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“See you tomorrow.”

Ianto managed a smile. “Good night.”

The cog door rolled open.


End file.
